The Perfect Shot
by HumanLikeYou
Summary: Blaine Anderson, a young, up-and-coming professional photographer, has the utmost luck to be assigned to a photoshoot featuring the famous (and breathtaking) Kurt Hummel. When Kurt's dominant presence begins to affect the submissive behind the camera, how long can they resist? - D/s AU, presented in three parts.
1. Professionalism vs Instinct

**A/N:** Every time Chris Colfer does a photoshoot, I ultimately end up drowning in Dom!Kurt feels. Today I woke up to a plethora of new Chris pictures and gifs on my Tumblr dashboard, and I had to write something. Thanks to blainestache on Tumblr for prompting the genius plot! Pretty sure it's gonna stay a one-shot, but if I write anything else in this verse, I'll add it on here as a new chapter.

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Blaine didn't know what had happened that had made him get this lucky. How he, a 21-year-old, recent college graduate, had the massive fortune of being assigned as principal photographer to a photoshoot like this was beyond his understanding. It was one thing to be made principal photographer at a professional shoot to begin with, but the fact that _Kurt Hummel _was scheduled to be modeling for the afternoon was nearly enough to make Blaine's brain melt out of his ears.

The world renowned Kurt Hummel didn't just model for _anybody. _He had the right to be picky. No one argued with his judgment. He was well respected in the world of fashion, and by extension, the worlds of art and photography. Blaine was halfway convinced it was all one big prank, or one ridiculously long dream he was having, until he met the man himself.

They briefly shook hands before Kurt was ushered away by his team of stylists. To help pass the time, Blaine double checked that the crew had set up all the lighting properly. When Kurt emerged from the dressing area some time later, Blaine was so awestruck by his appearance that he nearly dropped the unneeded tripod he was moving out of the way.

Once they set up the first shot, Blaine went to work. He was terrified for the first few minutes, imagining that everyone around the room was judging him, but on the other side of the camera, on display for all to see, Kurt looked entirely at ease. Everyone and their mother knew that Kurt Hummel was a Dominant. Even if he wasn't open about his status, it was clear in the way he carried himself and lived his life. He was supremely confident and surprisingly humble, and something about seeing the man at work, purely in his element, helped ease Blaine's own anxious nerves.

Every few minutes the supervisors paused the shoot and a slew of assistants rushed forward, adjusting Kurt's clothing, carefully urging any stray hair back into the immaculate coif, and ensuring that the very limited makeup his pale skin needed to combat the flash of the camera was still smooth and all but unnoticeable. Blaine waited on the side each time, gripping the camera too tightly, looking on at the proceedings as if he was doing some professional planning—perhaps setting up the next angles in his mind. In reality, however, all Blaine could manage to do was wish that he was among the team crowding around the model, allowed to be so close—to _touch_.

Quickly enough the assistants always retreated and Blaine got back to work, directing Kurt to turn his head to the left but keep his eyes on the lens. _Flash. _Now look out that window to your right. _Flash._

The rest of the first half hour proceeded in the same fashion. When they took a quick break for Kurt to slip into a different outfit, the assistants followed him back out into the side room littered with racks and racks of clothing. Despite his eagerness to go along, Blaine stayed behind in his place. An older, more experienced photographer who had done hundreds of shoots could probably pass along his ideas to the stylists for clothing options and even stand by to watch while they worked their magic to fit the fabric to the model's body, but Blaine was nowhere near that level, and there was no way to pretend he had any right to watch the one and only Kurt Hummel change his clothes.

Swallowing hard, Blaine wandered through the spacious apartment, trying his hardest to focus on finding the next ideal location, envisioning Kurt in various poses as he eyed each potential spot.

By the time Kurt returned, dressed in waist high black pants, dark sunglasses, and a graphic tee whose sleeves hugged his biceps in a way that was truly sinful, Blaine had decided on the new setting. "Right this way, Mr. Hummel," he said, showing him the way. Where the staircase met the landing, long sheets of transparent glass held up a thin silver railing, overlooking the view of the floor below them. All along the opposite wall, large windows let in massive amounts of bright sunlight, playing off the white walls and casting Kurt in a visible glow that was nearly ethereal.

"If you could just lean back on the railing like this," Blaine told him, briefly demonstrating by turning around and lowering his weight against the silver bar. Kurt nodded once, easily falling into the pose, and Blaine looked him over, trying to be clinical about it. "Arms back just a little more," he suggested quietly, daring to reach out and ever so gently press his fingers into the crook of Kurt's elbow. Kurt moved at the touch, letting Blaine guide him into place, and then the photographer stepped back to glance over the whole image again.

"Perfect," he said, a satisfied smile lighting up his face as he retreated several feet away and lifted the camera up to his face. "Just do what feels natural," he told Kurt, "Tilt your head a little. Turn it. Look around, whatever you feel like. Don't worry about me getting the perfect shot; just play with it."

Blaine didn't have an ounce of reservation in letting Kurt take the reins on his stance and appearance. The 25-year-old model had been modeling since he was a pre-teen—infinitely longer than Blaine had been in photography. He knew what he was doing. No one dared to question Kurt's judgment, and as the Dom confidently changed the tilt and angle of his head every few seconds, Blaine moved to capture it at the best angle he could find, the flash of the bulbs making the only disruption in the silent, concentration-filled room.

When the model had initially walked out for the second portion of the shoot, Blaine had thought the addition of sunglasses would make things easier on himself. If he couldn't see Kurt's stunning, deep, blue-green eyes, he couldn't accidentally get lost in them. The theory made perfect sense in principle, but in practice, it failed as disastrously as the Titanic's maiden voyage.

The young photographer quickly found that hiding the Dom's eyes did nothing but add _another _element of intrigue to the overall image of him. Now when Kurt faced the camera, Blaine really had no idea where the model's eyes were trained. He_ could_ just be looking at the lens, but he could just as easily be dragging his gaze up and down the length of Blaine's body, unabashedly examining the sub's slim waist and tight pants. The mere thought was enough to make Blaine's head spin a little, and he had to take a few deep breaths whenever Kurt turned his head to face the camera's direction.

Once, Blaine lowered himself down on one knee, angling the camera up to get the entirety of Kurt's tall body in the frame. Just as he was about to press the shutter button, Kurt's head moved from where he'd been gazing off toward the staircase. The Dom stared him down through the lens. Even through the sunglasses, Blaine could _feel _Kurt's gaze, and he almost missed the opportunity to get the shot, the flash barely going off before Kurt was glancing away again. The weight of Kurt's eyes on him lingered, and Blaine had to use a hand to support himself as he pushed back onto his feet, resisting the urge to fall entirely to his knees in a sudden rush of submission. He couldn't imagine a more embarrassing scenario; though no one could really blame him for being enchanted by the most gorgeous model who'd ever walked the earth. There was a reason Kurt Hummel had been named Sexiest Man Alive nearly half a dozen times.

When the end of the second segment of the shoot arrived, Blaine was rather relieved. The stylists followed Kurt out again to get him changed into the last outfit of the day, and the photographer took a long breath to calm himself. He accepted the water bottle an assistant was holding out to him, draining half of it in a single swig.

_You need to get ahold of yourself, _he thought desperately. _If you screw this up, you might never work again._

Blaine could see the gossip headlines now: "Young Photographer Unable to Resist Kurt Hummel, Falls to His Knees During Photoshoot!" "Horny for Hummel: The Rise and Fall of Blaine Anderson's Cut-Short Career!" He'd be the laughingstock of the world of professional photography. Blaine already knew what some people were saying; furious that such a young, inexperienced, fresh-out-of-college 'amateur' was getting to shoot with the one of the world's most renowned fashion icons. Preposterous, they called it; ridiculous; a waste of time and money.

If he lost himself now, Blaine wouldn't be able to bounce back. This shoot would literally make or break his longevity in the industry. If he was successful, he'd be known as the youngest photographer to ever work with Kurt Hummel, and hopefully his work would be admired for years to come. If he was _un_successful, he would fade into obscurity, becoming nothing but the butt of jokes and insults. This was not the time to let his submission get the best of him, no matter how powerful Kurt's presence was. The lingering arousal had to go, and it had to go _now_.

Blaine's intentions were valiant. His goals to adhere to professionalism for the rest of the shoot were honorable. His determination was strong.

But then Kurt Hummel walked back out into his line of vision, wearing a black suit from his own personal wardrobe that hugged his body in all the right places without a single clamp or pin. His hair was a perfectly styled mess, purposefully ruffled like he'd almost rolled out of bed. Waves of deep warmth rolled over the sub's body, all the way down to the ends of his fingertips and toes. Kurt sat in a white chair and crossed one leg over his opposite knee. The pant leg pulled back, revealing the one black sock that accentuated thin ankles and led the eyes down to the immaculately shined shoes he wore. With all the practice of someone who'd done it a million times, Kurt fell into a pose without instruction, bringing one fist up to rest near his chin and giving the photographer an expectant look.

Blaine knew he was a goner.

He started up on his feet, snapping pictures from multiple angles. He moved from one side of Kurt's body to the other, wandered toward the window and back again. Desperately trying to run the clock like a team on a football field, Blaine took every shot he could get while remaining upright, terrified to get any lower to the floor. Eventually, he ran out of options. There were only so many ways to photograph something at a single height before things began getting repetitive.

"Time?" he asked the room at large, expecting that someone would have been keeping tabs.

"Seven minutes left of the scheduled shoot, Mr. Anderson," an assistant responded.

Blaine nodded, letting out a breath through his nose. Seven minutes. All he had to do was get through seven minutes. Kurt watched curiously while the photographer's pause between shots dragged on, and finally Blaine bent his knees, resigned. He needed these shots. Refusing to kneel, the sub squatted uncomfortably, balancing on the balls of his feet while he angled the camera back toward his subject. Kurt glanced into the lens from time to time but mostly looked away, which Blaine was unbelievably thankful for.

As the minutes dragged by, Blaine's resolve slowly began to weaken. The call from Kurt's manager hailing the end of the shoot was like a declaration straight from heaven, sparing Blaine's soul. He got to his feet as quickly as he could, but Kurt made no move to stand himself.

The model had been rather quiet throughout the entire afternoon. Kurt was known for his silent concentration. It was common knowledge that if someone was too noisy during a shoot, Kurt didn't hesitate to send them on their way. He wasn't a diva by any means, but he certainly wasn't one to be argued with either. When he spoke up, the room listened.

"If you could all excuse us, I'd like to speak alone with the photographer—to congratulate the young man on his success."

Blaine couldn't remember how to breathe.

The assistants and crew filed out. Kurt gave his manager a pointed look that clearly meant something, though Blaine couldn't translate it. Footsteps shuffled down the stairs and out of the apartment. Within a minute, the building was cloaked in a heavy silence, and Blaine was alone with the most beautiful man he'd ever laid eyes on.

"I'm impressed by your skills, Blaine," Kurt told him then, "It's not very often you see such a young photographer with such finesse and vision."

Blaine blushed, floored by the praise. "Thank you. It's been such an honor to work with you, Mr. Hummel. I can't believe I got to do this."

Kurt smiled at him. It was just a small, simple grin, but in comparison to the sultry stares the world had come to expect from the model, the fond expression seemed like a gift to Blaine—like a great secret that Kurt was sharing with him. Blaine smiled back without a thought.

"You seemed to be just a little distracted at times, though," Kurt continued calmly. "I can't help but wonder why."

Blaine ducked his head bashfully. "Forgive me, Mr. Hummel, but sometimes you can be a little a distracting." The photographer chuckled nervously, clutching the camera in his hands. "You're very attractive." _What are you doing? You can't flirt with a model! _Kurt laughed softly, and the sound was like pealing bells. Blaine had to fight a moan of desire.

"You're not so bad yourself, honey," Kurt replied. Blaine's jaw dropped open in shock. "Why don't you set the camera down before you drop it," he suggested. Blaine did as he was told, carefully putting the expensive piece of technology aside on a nearby table.

"I don't mean to pry," Kurt said, "but you're a submissive, aren't you?"

Blaine nodded. "And you're a Dom." _A very powerful, sexy, incredible Dom._

"Mhm." Kurt uncrossed his legs, spreading them open a bit more than necessary. Blaine didn't realize he was staring at the model's crotch until Kurt spoke again, drawing his attention back up to his face. "Blaine? Are you seeing anyone right now?"

"N-No," Blaine stammered, "No, Mr. Hummel."

"Call me Kurt."

"Kurt," Blaine echoed.

"Good." Blaine tried to ignore the way the world tilted at the feeling of receiving Kurt's approval. The Dom continued, "Because I think I'd really like to take you out to dinner sometime. I bet you'd look gorgeous on my arm at red carpet events, don't you?"

Blaine gaped, wordless.

"Would you like that, Blaine?" he asked. "Would you like to get to know me better?"

"Yes," the sub said instantly. "Please, yes." Kurt smiled wide at that, real happiness lighting up his features. Blaine grinned giddily in return.

"Good. Thank you, Blaine," Kurt murmured. "Now then, why don't you come a little closer?" Blaine shuffled forward immediately, continuing to move while Kurt's finger beckoned, all the way until a mere few inches separated them from one another. "I saw how much you wanted to kneel for me earlier, honey," Kurt admitted. Blaine bit his lip, embarrassed. "Don't be ashamed," the Dom urged. "We can't help our instincts."

"I know," Blaine sighed. "I was just so scared that I was gonna lose it. There was so much pressure for me to do well at this shoot. I didn't want to screw this up."

"Well, you did wonderfully," Kurt promised, his voice slow and calculated, "and now the shoot's over. There's no pressure anymore."

Blaine met Kurt's eyes, not quite certain what the model was implying. Could he really be suggesting what Blaine _thought_ he was suggesting?

Kurt seemed to read his mind. "You'd look so handsome on your knees." The tone was dominant and authoritative. No sooner had Blaine heard the words than his knees buckled beneath him. Anticipating the break of the floodgates at the permissive words, Kurt reached out and caught Blaine as he fell, softening the blow as the sub lowered himself down to the hardwood floor. Already, Blaine was panting for breath.

"So gorgeous, Blaine," Kurt murmured, staring down at him. "You're so gorgeous."

"Please," Blaine whispered, "Please, Kurt."

"Please, what? What do you need, honey?"

"I want you so bad," Blaine mewled. The sub slid forward to pillow his head on Kurt's thigh, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Now that he was here, kneeling at Kurt's feet, every dirty fantasy he'd been repressing throughout the shoot was rushing to the surface, and Blaine was so suddenly aroused that he could hardly keep his thoughts straight. "Please, please, _please_."

Kurt stroked a hand across Blaine's cheek, soothing him. The sub fell quiet and Kurt pulled his hand away from his face, focusing his attention on the zipper of his pants. Blaine watched him undo it with wide, hungry eyes, and the sub whimpered when it became clear that Kurt was wearing nothing underneath.

The Dom lifted himself out of the chair a fraction, just enough to edge his pants down. Blaine eagerly gripped the black fabric, helping to tug it out of the way. When it had pooled at his ankles, Kurt sat once more, completely disregarding the fact that one of his most expensive suits was going to be a wrinkled mess. Some things were worth a few wrinkles—like a beautiful boy between his legs.

"Please, please, please," Blaine had started the begging chant once more. Kurt shushed him, giving his cock a few luxurious strokes. The sub watched, licking his lips, until finally Kurt urged Blaine forward, guiding his head with a gentle hand and letting the sub take him into his mouth.

"There you go, sweetheart," he murmured, gasping at the heat. "Good, Blaine."

It had been quite a while since Blaine sucked a man off. The last time he remembered, he'd been a junior in college, blowing his boyfriend on their three-month anniversary. They'd broken up a few weeks later. It had been years, and since then Blaine's young body had forced him to go through life feeling sexually frustrated more often than not. The feeling of Kurt's dick in his mouth, still mostly soft, was incredible—even moreso as the Dom grew harder, his length expanding and throbbing and filling Blaine's mouth to the brink. He took his time to work Kurt to full arousal, moving slowly and bobbing his head at a casual pace.

When he was certain that Kurt was fully hard and fully aroused the sub pulled off for a moment, reaching up to support the weight of Kurt's length in his fist. Pumping at the base of the hot flesh, Blaine took a moment to worship with his tongue. He trailed wet stripes up the underside, swirled at the head, and buried himself underneath to mouth at Kurt's balls, eliciting cries from the Dom that sent pleased shivers down his spine.

"Blaine," Kurt panted. Hands tangled in Blaine's curls, pulling him back. Kurt pushed the sub's hand away and pressed the head of his cock to Blaine's lips. "No more teasing," Kurt pleaded. "Take it, baby. Make me come." The sub was happy to oblige, opening his mouth and sinking back around Kurt's erection. The grip never left his hair, and the sub relished the commanding aura.

He moaned in ecstatic pleasure, hearing Kurt fall apart above him. The model's voice became strained and husky with increased arousal. He breathed in loud gasps that echoed through the apartment. "Fuck, you have a perfect mouth. Such a good boy. Unngh, _harder_," Kurt ordered, "C'mon, baby, suck harder." Blaine whined in acknowledgment, squeezing his eyes shut as he concentrated, picking up the speed of his bobbing head and hollowing his cheeks until the muscles of his face burned and ached.

Things got sloppy as desperation grew. The sub salivated at the taste of Kurt's precum, and before long Blaine was drooling down his chin, wide, lust-blown eyes staring up at Kurt's face. He wanted to see when Kurt orgasmed. He needed to see what sort of expression would appear on such a flawless face. How many people dreamed of making _the_ Kurt Hummel unravel in pleasure? Blaine was living it. He moaned at the thought, and Kurt looked down at him. Their eyes locked.

Kurt stared, dumbfounded, down at the young man between his legs. Blaine's lips were red and swollen and stretched around him, shining wet with his own saliva. He'd never seen a pair of eyes look so desperate. "You want it?" Kurt panted, "You want me to come in your mouth, Blaine?"

The sub's whole body gave a violent tremble. Blaine's eyes glazed over as they welled up, so caught in the moment that he was on the verge of overwhelmed tears. Kurt tugged Blaine back by fistfuls of hair, holding him fast so the sub could only reach the head of his cock. Keeping Blaine in place, Kurt pulled one hand away from the dark curls and hastily wrapped it around his length. Using what was left of Blaine's spit to slick up his movements, Kurt jerked himself off, staring straight into Blaine's eyes as he did so, moans and curses spilling from his mouth in a near-constant buzz of sound.

When he finally came with a cry, Blaine yanked his head from Kurt's now-limp grasp, pushing himself to take as much as he could into his mouth while he swallowed. He continued to suck, lighter and slower than before, working the Dom through it. He didn't stop until Kurt gave him a silent cue in the form of a single tug on his hair. Blaine pulled off, thin trails of drool following in his wake.

"Perfect boy," Kurt whispered, wiping Blaine's face with the handkerchief from his coat pocket. The sub grabbed Kurt's tie with a trembling hand, pulling him down for a long kiss. When they broke apart, Kurt cradled Blaine's face in his hands, keeping their foreheads pressed together. "I wanna get you off," he breathed.

"You don't have to," Blaine blushed, giving the Dom a lopsided grin.

"Yes, I do, Blaine. I'm not just gonna let you stay aching all night."

"No, Kurt," Blaine rephrased, "You don't have to _anymore." _Kurt's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Blaine let out an embarrassed breath. "I, uh… I kinda already did."

"Oh… _Oh." _Kurt giggled. "I see."

"I just did a photoshoot with Kurt Hummel—world renowned model, fashion icon, movie star, and five time Sexiest Man Alive—and then I got to blow him," Blaine shrugged. "I think I have the right to come in my pants for something _that_ amazing."

Kurt laughed, kissing Blaine again. "I might just have to hire you again sometime, Mr. Photographer," he said teasingly, "You can come to my bedroom and we can take some pictures _together_."


	2. Commited and Consummated

**A/N: **You guys asked for it, so here's Part 2 of what was supposed to be a stand-alone one shot. I also have a Part 3 planned, and that will be the end of it. LOL.

Part 2 is nearly twice as long as Part 1, clocking in at 6,740 words. I hope all of you who begged for more enjoy this update. I had lots of fun writing it.

**Warnings:** Much stronger D/s elements than those featured in Part 1, though it's still entirely consensual and loving; brief dirty talk; slight roleplay.

* * *

An exchange of phone numbers and a few conversations later, Kurt's promised dinner date was scheduled. Blaine spent nearly an hour on the evening of the date worrying over what outfit he should wear. He couldn't just put on _anything, _after all_. _Not when his date was with a world famous, fashion forward _model. _By the time Kurt knocked on Blaine's apartment door to pick him up at 6:30 PM sharp, the photographer's stomach was tied in anxious knots.

He let Kurt in and gave him a hesitant smile, trying not to compare his significantly less-expensive wardrobe to Kurt's designer labels, though Kurt had dressed down a bit for the evening, donning a button down shirt, dark blazer, and form fitting slacks—a far cry from the suit and tie he'd brought to the photoshoot a week earlier. "I wasn't sure what to wear," Blaine began, bashfully smoothing down his sweater vest, "I hope this is good enough... I usually don't worry so much about what I'm wearing, you know, since I'm behind the camera and all. I don't have a really extensive amount of options in my closet either, and—"

"Blaine," Kurt cut him off with a laugh, his face softening. "Don't worry. You look incredibly handsome," he said sweetly, stepping closer to run his hands down the sub's shoulders in a reassuring motion. "The bow tie especially."

Blaine grinned up at him, biting the inside of his cheek. "I'm glad you like it," he said, relieved.

"Shall we?" Kurt asked him then, offering his arm. Blaine nodded, gripping Kurt's elbow, and they exited Blaine's apartment, into the hall and down the nearby stairwell to head for the ground floor lobby.

"Sorry I live in such a dump," Blaine laughed, entirely self-deprecating, as they started their second flight of steps. "This place is so cheap it doesn't even have an elevator."

"It's fine, Blaine. Really," Kurt insisted, his voice and their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls and metal stairs. "I don't want you to feel ashamed around me, baby." The affectionate petname made Blaine smile. "That won't do at all."

"I'm not ashamed. Just a little intimidated, I guess," Blaine shrugged, scampering forward to open the heavy door for Kurt once they reached the ground level. The Dom stepped over the threshold and into the deserted lobby with a soft word of thanks, letting Blaine continue, "I mean, you're _Kurt Hummel. _Everyone knows your name, your face. I'm just some college graduate who got lucky enough to do a shoot with you."

Kurt paused, holding Blaine back and turning to face him. "Yes," he agreed, "I _am_ famous. I'm a model, a fashion expert, an award winner, an actor, and an all-around 'Hollywood A-lister,'" he declared with air quotes and a hint of distaste for the term. Blaine dipped his head to stare at the floor, overwhelmed by Kurt's accomplishments, his own paling in comparison. Only a second passed before Kurt slipped a finger beneath the sub's chin, encouraging him to look back up into his eyes. Kurt spoke again, gentler, "But I'm also a young man, single for several very long years. Being in the global spotlight, you can imagine how hard it is for me to try conventional dating."

"You never know what someone's motives are," Blaine guessed.

"Exactly," Kurt nodded. "You can never tell if a cute guy in a club is someone real or just a plant hired by someone to get the juiciest gossip straight from Kurt Hummel's mouth, knowing that if they get me to take them home, their pay will triple." Kurt sighed, "It's not so easy to guess which strangers are genuine and which strangers are not—but you, Blaine… You're different."

"Why?" he asked, true curiosity in his tone, "How can you tell?"

"Because you're a simple young man," the Dom smiled, "I know your profession; I know you're a submissive—a beautiful one at that," Kurt murmured fondly. "I can tell you're humble and have your priorities well-organized. For example, knowing you chose to live in a less classy apartment building instead of splurging for a better one tells me that you're practical and careful with your money, which means you're probably just as careful and practical with other things in your life."

"You're good at reading people," Blaine observed.

Kurt shrugged in humble agreement. "I think that's one of my natural talents—probably something to do with being a Dom—but I can't say that living in this business hasn't helped me polish it to near perfection," he chuckled briefly before giving Blaine a serious look once more. "Anyway, Blaine, what I'm trying to get at is that I'm just a guy. I'm a 25-year-old man who discovered a really great guy at work last week and wants to get to know said guy better. Don't overthink it, okay? I'm not going to judge you for your clothes, or your apartment, or what you order off the menu, or anything like that. Okay?"

Blaine nodded a few times with a simple, "Okay, Kurt," and that was that. The speed at which he was comfortable trusting and accepting Kurt's words as fact was entirely new to him. He was usually more than capable of shoving down the obvious signs of his submissive status; it was necessary for him to be an independent, focused, career-driven man. But there was simply something about the model standing in front of him that was able to reach down into Blaine's heart and pull all of that submission to the surface. Blaine was certain that Kurt realized it, but he wasn't afraid of Kurt being aware of that power he had over him. On the contrary, it made him feel weirdly stabilized, as if he'd been unaware that part of his life had been teetering on a precipice until Kurt arrived and finally added the opposite weight he never knew he needed to create a perfect balance.

"Alright," Kurt murmured back, "Good." He pecked Blaine on the lips and took the sub by the hand, "Come on; the driver will be getting impatient."

Blaine scanned the side of the street when they stepped outside, looking for a black limousine or town car. Instead, Kurt led him over to an average yellow taxi, idling on the curb. "You take cabs?" Blaine asked, a little surprised, "I thought you'd have a chauffeur or something."

"I do have a chauffeur in my employment, but sometimes I prefer not drawing instant attention to myself when I go out. I actually like to drive myself places, usually, but I figured it would be more appropriate to pick up my date with someone else at the wheel—that way I can pay all my attention to him instead of navigating the streets." A soft smile graced Kurt's lips as he held open the door of the cab for Blaine. The sub slid inside the interior, his nose wrinkling at the faint smell of cigarette smoke. When Kurt moved in beside him, suddenly having donned a pair of sunglasses that Blaine hadn't seen earlier, the cab driver made a point of reminding him that all that time he'd sat waiting for Kurt's return was going to show up on the tab.

"That's fine," Kurt dismissed with a wave of his hand. He passed on a quick slew of directions to a restaurant, and the cab driver pulled out into the street without a word.

Upon reaching their destination, Kurt paid the driver without a second glance at the price that had accumulated (a number that would have Blaine's eyes bugging out of his skull if he'd had to pay), and opened his door to exit. Blaine thanked the man in the front seat and stepped out of his own door onto the sidewalk, taking Kurt's hand when the Dom moved to his side. He let Kurt take the lead while they started toward the building in front of them; Blaine had never seen it before.

Inside, the wait staff immediately escorted the model and his date to the most private booth their facility could provide them. Blaine glanced around the restaurant curiously while Kurt preemptively ordered them the best bottle of white wine stored in the cellar, sending along an additional request for two glasses of water to keep them from getting too heavily saturated with alcohol between bites. Blaine could tell this wasn't the fanciest restaurant in town—not like the ones that served tiny portions of exotic foods on white plates that came again and again, course after course—but it was far fancier than he was accustomed to. A quick glance at the menu left him confused and a little concerned.

"Kurt?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Blue eyes looked up from their own perusing.

"There, uh… There aren't any prices on here."

"You can have anything you'd like," Kurt assured him, "It's all on me."

"Kurt, I don't know…" Blaine hesitated.

The Dom reached across the table, palm up, waiting patiently until Blaine complied, settling his hand in Kurt's. Kurt's fingers squeezed tightly, and his pale thumb rubbed a gentle path up and down Blaine's skin.

"I asked you to join me on this date, Blaine," Kurt reminded. "I chose this restaurant. I knew what we were walking into, and I am fully prepared to pay for the bill like a gentleman. Order what you want, baby. Anything you'd like," he repeated.

"Okay." With Kurt's blessing and permission, Blaine browsed the menu freely, taking time to read each dish's description before moving to the next. When a waitress returned with their drinks, setting down the water before uncorking a bottle and pouring them each a glass of their finest wine to sample, Kurt took a sip and declared it satisfactory, looking to Blaine for his opinion. Blaine tipped his own glass up to his lips and took a small swallow, quickly nodding in agreement. "It's really good." He didn't have much experience with wine, but this one tasted pretty extraordinary as far as he was concerned.

The waitress asked if they'd decided on their meals, entirely unaffected by the sight of their hands clasped together on the table cloth. She memorized their orders—both of which had a few specific changes from the original recipes—without writing a single thing on a notepad, and when she left Blaine couldn't help but follow her retreating form with an impressed gaze as she returned to the kitchen to relay their requests to the chefs.

It didn't take long at all for their food to arrive. Blaine suspected that Kurt's mere presence automatically had his needs taking priority over the regular patrons. Blaine took his first bite of steak, cooked medium well, as soon as it was set in front of him. He all but_ moaned_ at the taste. Kurt beamed at him from across the table.

"Good?" he asked.

"Mmm," Blaine swallowed luxuriously, licking his lips, "_Delicious_. I don't know when the last time I had steak was. It's been a long time."

"I'm glad you like it," Kurt replied, taking a bite of his own meal. They continued to eat in silence for a few minutes. Blaine tried to take his time to savor, but he was still over halfway done by the time Kurt spoke again, sipping at his wine glass. "So Blaine, as fun as this evening's been so far, I'd like to steer us down a path of more serious conversation, if that's alright with you."

"Sure, Kurt." Blaine set down his knife and fork, giving the Dom his attention.

"At the shoot a few days ago," Kurt began, "I remember saying that I could tell you wanted to kneel for me."

Blaine bit his lip, nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you think that was just a product of me eye-fucking the camera lens you were staring through for hours on end, or do you think it could be more than that?"

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked for clarification, eyebrows knit in a bit of confusion.

"I mean," Kurt rephrased, "did you just want to kneel for Kurt Hummel, the famous model with massive on-camera sex appeal? Or… would you kneel for Kurt Hummel, the Dom who just happens to have a job that is very much in the public eye?"

"Oh…" Blaine blinked, licking his lips again. He took a drink of too much wine and coughed a little in the aftermath, eyes watering.

"You okay?" Kurt asked gently.

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine stammered, "I'm fine. That was just a… a really loaded question," he chuckled awkwardly.

"I know, baby," Kurt shook his head, "I'm sorry. That was too forward of me."

"No, I… I mean, it wasn't _bad_," he tried to save the moment, "Just took me by surprise is all."

"Understandably so."

Blaine took a deep breath, grabbed his fork and thoughtfully chewed on a bite of perfectly seasoned green beans. "I think I could," he answered afterward.

"Could…?" Kurt wanted to make sure he was interpreting the message correctly.

"Kneel for you," Blaine finished quietly. "We haven't known each other very long at all, but… You make me feel things I've never felt, Kurt—like at the shoot. I've never really felt a strong urge to submit to _anyone_ before, but then you appeared and all bets were off," he laughed.

"And now?" Kurt prompted, "Now that we're in a casual atmosphere instead of a professional one?"

"Still the same. It still... feels right. There's something about you, Kurt. Something that taps into that part of me that no one's gotten into before."

Kurt nodded, not foolish enough to try questioning the complexities of instinct. If he could reach Blaine on a level that no one else could, that was special; he didn't need to know exactly why. But he_ did_ need to know how the sub felt about it. "And you don't mind that I get to you like that?"

Blaine shook his head immediately, reaching out for Kurt's hand. The Dom threaded their fingers together. "I don't mind it at all, Kurt," Blaine said truthfully. "It's new, and a little frightening in its magnitude, you know?" Kurt squeezed his hand, nodding, "but it's a good feeling. Like safety and warmth and…yeah. Does that make any sense?"

"It makes just as much sense as me feeling really protective, a bit hungry for control, and sickeningly affectionate," Kurt replied with a sly grin. Blaine blushed.

"So, um… Does this make us like, a couple or?" the sub was hesitant, uncertainty in his tone.

Kurt pulled his hand away to move it, laying over the top of Blaine's and soothingly stroking the skin there. "What do you want us to be, baby?" he asked, "Whatever you need. I've already decided that I want to keep you in my life. If you want to be friends, we'll be the best friends this city's ever seen. If you want to be on my arm at events as my boyfriend, I'd be honored to have you. If you'd kneel for me in my bedroom as my submissive, I'd be blessed beyond belief—the luckiest Dom on Earth. Whatever you want us to be."

Blaine thought about Kurt's words. The silence at their table wasn't awkward at all. Finally Blaine met Kurt's eyes, hopeful. "What if I wanted to be all three?" he ventured, "Your best friend, your lover, and your sub?"

Kurt smiled so wide the muscles of his face ached in protest. He rose from his chair to lean across the table, catching Blaine in a slow kiss. When he pulled away, he brushed a hand through Blaine's curls, gazing at him with burning, excited eyes. Blaine stared back up at him, lips parted and perfect, smeared with a bit of Kurt's saliva, already feeling claimed.

"I'd say that's the best idea I've ever heard, baby."

* * *

A few days later, Blaine found himself at Kurt's house—or at Kurt's mansion, rather—for the first time, staring around the massive foyer when he stepped inside on the Dom's heels. "Wow," he breathed, "It's huge."

"Yeah," Kurt said, sounding a little shy and an odd shade of embarrassed, perhaps at his affluence in the face of his knowledge that Blaine had come here from his ratty apartment complex which he occasionally struggled to pay rent on. "I have to say this place is one of my favorite perks..."

"I totally understand," Blaine told him with a smile, making sure Kurt knew that he wasn't upset. He'd worked hard since their first date to get over the residual feelings of inadequacy. To help him along, Kurt had taken Blaine out almost every day since, to lunch or dinner, once to a movie where they kissed in the back row like teenagers, and Blaine had been basking in the attention of his new boyfriend, gradually coming to terms with the fact that they were just as much an ordinary couple as anyone else, despite Kurt's occupation and millions of dollars.

Today though, Kurt had requested Blaine's presence for an entirely different purpose. Though they would still remain boyfriends no matter what roles they played, Kurt was itching to see Blaine's submissive side at work once more. The promise of an evening alone in Kurt's mansion, with strong hints to the equally attractive promise of sex, was something Blaine couldn't pass up, and he quickly agreed to come, picked up outside his apartment by Kurt's chauffer and dropped off inside the gates at the end of the long driveway.

"You ready, baby?" Kurt asked, playing with the collar of Blaine's shirt, keeping his tone light. "Are you sure you're comfortable with this?" He was clearly referencing the discussion they'd had over the phone earlier that day, talking about what they wanted from one another, sexually—how much submission Kurt wanted from Blaine, and how controlling the sub wanted his Dom to be.

"I'm ready," Blaine replied with a grin. "So ready to serve my Dom."

Kurt kissed him hotly, "You're wonderful," he praised, "But remember what we agreed on. If you get uncomfortable at all, you tell me right away, alright?"

"I know," Blaine said.

"I mean it, Blaine," Kurt said firmly. "If you aren't comfortable with something, you have the right to stop it, and you _should _stop it. Promise me."

"I promise, Kurt," Blaine said immediately. "I'll tell you if something goes too far."

"Good boy." Kurt pecked Blaine on the lips once more before pulling away, turning his back on his sub and taking a few steps out into the foyer. "Did you bring your camera like I asked?" the model's voice was smooth, suddenly authoritative. The scene had begun. Blaine felt chills running down the length of his spine as he nodded.

"Yes, Kurt."

"Good," he smiled. "I was so enamored by your skills the last time we collaborated," the Dom winked suggestively, "I thought we could do it again."

"The photoshoot or the… uh, what happened afterward?" Blaine asked slowly, unable to hide a smirk of amusement at the ambiguous wording.

Kurt laughed. "Let's at least start with photos, shall we?" he responded. "It would be stupid to have such a talented photographer here in my home if I didn't make use of his talent. What do you think about a second shoot, Blaine? _A personal look at Kurt Hummel_," he waved a hand as if reading the title of an imaginary magazine spread featuring the latest work of young prodigy, Blaine Anderson.

"I'd love to, Mr. Hummel." Blaine's brain slipped back into old habit, unaccustomed to play like this and teetering somewhere between professionalism and submission, a fraction of him still uncertain of which role he should fall into. Kurt pinched his ass to remind him of his place—_submissive—_fingers surprisingly strong even through a layer of denim jeans. "I'd love to, Kurt," the sub immediately revised. His chin lowered of its own accord, beautifully subservient, and Kurt leaned his head down to press their lips together, briefly, but long enough to steal Blaine's breath.

"I think we should start the shoot in the music room," the model suggested. Blaine nodded at once in agreement, taking Kurt's hand and letting himself be led from the foyer. The mansion probably wasn't the most high class home that could be found in Los Angeles, but everything he looked at had Blaine actively trying not to let his mouth fall agape. After spending a year in an over-priced and cramped apartment, Kurt's home was like something straight from a movie, seemingly unreachable, yet here they were.

The music room, as Kurt had called it, turned out to be a rather simple looking space upon entering. The muted, pale color of the walls and floor helped to emphasize the clear centerpiece—a massive, ebony grand piano. The dark polished wood gleamed under the light of the elegant chandelier high above their heads.

"Do you play?" Blaine asked.

"Not as well as I'd like to," Kurt answered honestly. He slid onto the piano bench and Blaine lifted up the camera to his face, taking a few snaps while the model posed in various positions—with his fingers over the keys, with his body stretched out over the bench, with his shirt undone and chest exposed as he stared at the camera through long lashes. They spent twenty minutes making art on and around the piano before Kurt decided to move on to phase two, which he'd already decided would take place in the bedroom.

Blaine followed his Dom upstairs and stood just inside the doorway of Kurt's bedroom, the weight of how close they were coming to the climactic end of their roleplay dawning on him with a vengeance.

"If you'll give me just a moment to prepare?" Kurt asked, all false professionalism and a hint of hungry desire.

"Of course," Blaine gestured permissively with his hand, and Kurt quietly stepped into the adjoining master bathroom and closed the door, leaving the photographer alone with his thoughts. Blaine stared over at the bed, framed by four long posts and old-style bed curtains that Blaine had only ever seen in the many film versions of _A Christmas Carol_. He wandered over and felt the fabric, curiously running his hand along it.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened once more, and Kurt emerged looking like a god of pleasure, wearing nothing but a silk robe to cover his body. Blaine stared, clenching his jaw tight to keep it from falling open while the Dom confidently sauntered closer.

Kurt sat on the edge of his bed, the thin white robe trailing down his long legs. Blaine held the camera in his hands, desperately trying to hide the excited tremors of his muscles. The model smirked knowingly at Blaine's reaction, readjusting his posture to make sure that the tented bulge in the silk between his legs was clearly visible.

"Photos, Blaine?" he prompted, expectantly amused.

"Oh! Oh, yes, Kurt," Blaine babbled, "Of course," he complied, hastily lifting the camera to his face. He had to stay professional, at least for a few more moments. It was clear that Kurt was getting off on their game of pretending this was nothing more than a regularly scheduled shoot, and ensuring that the Dom was as aroused as possible would definitely only serve to make this evening all the more spectacular.

Blaine took a few snaps from his current stance before moving a bit to his left, centering on the front of Kurt's body. Kurt responded like the model he was, training all his sex appeal in the direction of the lens—clear bedroom eyes, his full lips parted just enough to show a hint of teeth. Every inch of him radiated dominance and lust, and focusing so intently on the figure before him, Blaine couldn't help but keenly feel his own cock twitching with interest in his tight pants that left him aching and unable to grow fully erect.

"Lay back on the bed," Blaine suggested when he was ready for a change of pace, "arms out at your sides like you're making a 'T,' palms down." Gripping the camera tight in one fist, he held his free hand out far from his shoulder, trying to feel the precise shot he wanted before Kurt was even in position. When the Dom had reclined back against the small stack of pillows behind him and held out his arms like a sensual cross, Blaine groaned in approval and want. "Perfect," he breathed. "You're perfect."

The side of Kurt's lips quirked up in a knowing half-smile, and Blaine urged him to hold it there while he stood against the bedpost on the right side of the bed, angling his camera at a diagonal to the model's body. Kurt closed his eyes, keeping the grin on his expression as he relaxed, letting Blaine work. The photographer let out a continuous stream of worshipful appreciation as he moved around to each side of the bed, "You're beautiful," _Flash, _"The most beautiful man I've ever seen, Kurt," _Flash. _When the English language failed him, Blaine would simply stare in awe and snap another photo.

A few minutes later, without a cue or warning, Kurt sat back up. Blaine didn't argue or protest. The model seemed to dutifully ignore him anyway, bringing his legs close and folding them one on top of the other at his side, still perched in the center of the bed. It was clearly not a kneeling position; Kurt was in control. "Keep taking pictures, Mr. Anderson," the model instructed his photographer offhandedly, not meeting his eyes.

Blaine nodded obediently and raised the camera for a shot of Kurt reaching for the tie of his robe. It didn't take long to realize what Kurt was planning to do, and Blaine felt sure he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer once Kurt was bare. All the same, he tried desperately to follow the order, holding the artistic heart of his mind up as high as possible, out of reach over the swirling whirlpool of submissive desire that the remainder of his consciousness had become. From that artistic standpoint, Blaine knew that if he focused, these next moments would potentially grace him with the satisfaction of capturing some of the most beautiful photographs ever taken, and that was enough to help him persevere while Kurt Hummel slipped the robe off his shoulders, pulled his arms through the delicate sleeves, and finally tossed it off the side of the bed, exposing himself fully to Blaine's eyes and the camera's lens.

The sound of Blaine's dry swallow was gulping and audible. Kurt ignored it, leaning languidly into a light stretch and supporting himself on one hand. His cock was just as glorious as Blaine remembered from the first and most recent time he'd seen it (and had his lips wrapped around it). Kurt's erection arched just as beautifully as his body in the erotic pose, and Blaine could hardly press the shutter button. His fingers felt like they were going numb, just like his brain.

Dutifully, Blaine continued, taking as many pictures as he could manage to think through. The shots got progressively harder to set up, because each time he looked through the focus and had to stare hard at the angles and shadows and _curves_ and skin, Blaine slipped further and further away from professionalism, finally culminating with a desperate whine of his Dom's name, "_Kurt_," and a defeated, tired whimper. The model glanced over at him for the first time in several long minutes, but Blaine didn't see a cool, haughty photoshoot expression. Instead Kurt had on a gentle face, eyes searching and kind. He was all Dom, soothingly responding to Blaine's distress. Instantly, the sub felt more at ease. Their game was over, and Blaine had performed well. Now, with any luck, he'd be rewarded.

"What is it, baby?" Kurt asked slowly, sounding as though he already knew the answer.

"I need you so badly," Blaine told him weakly, honestly. His hands were shaking freely now, the camera rattling against its neck strap.

Kurt gestured to the bedside table. "Turn off your camera and set it down, please." Blaine shuffled over and did as he was told. "Now, if you look in the top drawer you'll find lube and condoms," the model continued calmly, "Get them for me."

"How many, Kurt?" Blaine asked, pulling open the drawer.

"Just one for now."

"Okay." The sub retrieved the items quickly and stood in place, unsure. Should he kneel? Was he allowed on his Dom's bed yet? Had he earned that privilege?

Kurt answered the unspoken question, patting the space beside him. "Up here, gorgeous."

Blaine scrambled up onto the bed and handed Kurt the single condom packet and bottle of lube, tucking his feet underneath him and settling low into a kneel. The Dom set everything aside and leaned in to kiss Blaine affectionately, stroking the sub's cheek as he pulled away. "Once again, I've been impressed by your photography skills today, Blaine. Truly."

"You haven't even seen what I've taken yet," Blaine replied bashfully. "They might all be lousy."

"But they're not," Kurt assured, "because they're your work. You have a gift for this, Blaine."

"Thank you, Kurt."

"You're welcome." Kurt kissed him again; he felt Blaine's lips curve into a content smile. "Lean back," he murmured, wrapping an arm around the sub's torso. Blaine leaned into it, letting himself be lowered against the bed. Kurt pulled Blaine's legs out of their bent posture and straddled the photographer's hips, running his hands down Blaine's shirt as he deftly undid the buttons, raising Blaine back up for a moment to slide the fabric out from under him. The jeans he wore went soon after, followed by his briefs, and Kurt took his sub's length in hand for the first time, slowly working Blaine to full arousal with a talented grip.

"You're so beautiful," Kurt told him in a hushed voice while Blaine gasped underneath him, "Every inch of you, Blaine." Then, ever so casually, "I wanna fuck you."

Blaine groaned. "Please," he begged, "Please, yes."

"Are you sure?"

"_Please, _Kurt!" Blaine cried, "Now. Fuck me now."

The Dom giggled, rubbing Blaine's stomach and leaning far down to kiss his cheek sweetly. "We have to make sure you're good and stretched first, silly boy."

"_Hurry,_" he pleaded.

"Patience, baby," Kurt said in return, authority slipping back into his voice. Blaine bowed his head toward his chest apologetically and the Dom stroked down in his hip in a silent but clear acceptance of the unspoken request for forgiveness. "Just relax, Blaine, and I'll do this as quickly as I can so we can keep going. I'm just as eager as you are," he reminded evenly. "Roll over for me; it'll be easier."

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine said quietly, flipping onto his stomach and closing his eyes with a long breath of air.

The Dom worked expertly, warming up the lube between his palms and smearing it across his sub's entrance. His fingertip circled; Blaine whimpered. He pushed in; Blaine bit down on the bed sheets. Kurt worked Blaine through the slight burn, murmuring encouragements and gentle words of praise. "You're doing so well, Blaine. We're nearly there now." After three fingers had been snuggly inserted and scissored out in three directions to make Blaine squirm at the stimulation, Kurt pulled his hand away, patting Blaine's ass affectionately and ordering, "Knees."

Blaine rose, settled back into the submissive pose, and Kurt relocated to the head of the bed, leaning back against the mound of pillows that cushioned the headboard. His sub stared hungrily, waiting for instruction. "Please, Kurt?" he mumbled. "Please?"

"Hush," the Dom soothed. He prolonged Blaine's wait for another minute, stroking his own cock, rolling down the condom, and lubing himself up slowly while Blaine stewed in desperate desire, not allowed to touch himself. Finally, Kurt had had enough teasing. Blaine looked like he was about ready to keel over from arousal, and Kurt was more than ready to give him a well-fucked look and a well-fucked ass that would ache for the rest of the week.

"You're gonna ride me, baby," he whispered devilishly. Blaine moaned, crawling forward without being called.

"Need you," he panted, reaching out to grip Kurt's thigh, requesting permission to move even closer. "Kurt, please."

"Ah ah," the Dom chastised, wagging his index finger playfully. "Be more specific, Blaine. What do you need?"

"I need your cock in me," he whispered. Though he blushed a bit at the filthy words, he never stopped, "I need to feel you. I need you to fill me up with your cock and hold me and let me ride you until we're both screaming. Please, Kurt, I need you to fuck me!" The sub was crazed with desire, and the Dom had never seen something so hot as Blaine's transformation to a begging dirty talker.

"Shit," Kurt swore brokenly. He gripped a fistful of Blaine's curls, tugging the sub forward and crushing their mouths together. Without breaking the kiss, Kurt's hands pulled, pushed, patted, and touched along Blaine's body, slowly guiding him into position. Kurt pumped his cock once, added one last bit of extra lube, and then pulled his lips away from Blaine's to order, "Down."

The sub felt the head of Kurt's cock pushing between the cheeks of his ass, pressing against his hole. He groaned with anticipation and closed his eyes, tucking his face against Kurt's neck as he obeyed the command and eased his muscles to slowly relax, sinking down around the Dom's length. He let out a loud, inaudible yell when the tight ring of muscle gave way to the intrusion. Kurt shushed him, using his free hand that wasn't positioning his cock to brush through the curls behind Blaine's ear. "There you go, baby. Good, Blaine," he murmured, "Keep going."

Blaine nodded against Kurt's skin, lowering himself until he was entirely full, sitting his weight in Kurt's lap. They fit together perfectly.

"Good boy," Kurt praised. "You've got such a tight little asshole for me, Blaine." The sub let out a garbled whine in response. Kurt was fairly certain he was aiming for words, but they'd failed him. It was ridiculously adorable, even in this dirty context. "Feel okay?" he checked in, kissing Blaine's cheek and running a hand down the knobs of his spine.

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine whispered distantly, "Feel amazing. Full of my Dom's cock. P-Perfect."

"Mm, I'm glad to hear that," Kurt replied, "Ready to move for me, baby? C'mon." The Dom gripped Blaine's hips to help support him. "Start slow… Now up." The sub used his strong leg muscles to lift himself, edging right until only the head of his Dom's cock remained inside. "Down," Kurt ordered. Blaine sank back into the warm lap, eliciting a long groan from Kurt's mouth. The Dom had to collect himself before uttering another, "Up." Blaine obeyed. "Down."

Kurt continued to guide Blaine's every move with the alternating two commands, gradually picking up the pace until he felt sure that Blaine had adjusted to the stretch completely. Then with a simple, "Keep going," Kurt handed the reins to his sub, and Blaine took all the power Kurt gave him, returning the favor to his Dom tenfold in the form of pleasure.

Blaine's strong muscles worked exceedingly hard as he bounced on Kurt's length. The Dom gasped time and again, letting out high pitched cries between praiseful words and gestures. Soon Blaine began riding Kurt as much for his Dom's enjoyment as for his own. He wanted to be fucked so badly—to lean back and let Kurt pound into him—but in this position, he had to do all the work for both of them, and desperation spurred him on, even when his thighs and calves began to ache with exertion.

Just five minutes later, Kurt paused Blaine's movements, not wanting to overwork him. Cupping his face in his hands, Kurt spoke firmly to get through the haze of arousal and mechanic motion. "Easy, baby," he urged, "Slow down now. _Ahh_, B-Blaine, okay, baby. I know, I know, it's okay," he whispered when Blaine let out a muffled cry of anguish at the increasing loss of friction. Kurt kissed the sweat from his brow, "Slow down. There you go… Such a good boy."

Blaine panted for breath, sitting heavily in Kurt's lap. The Dom let him relax and recuperate, making no protests when his sub wrapped his legs around his back and clung to his neck with strong arms. Kurt held him close; Blaine felt small like this, curved into him, and the Dom wanted nothing more than to keep him wrapped safely in his arms until the end of time. He peppered his face with kisses.

"We're gonna move now, baby," Kurt alerted him, "You're gonna lay on your back, alright?" asking the question more to check for Blaine's awareness level than anything else.

"Mmmf," was all the sub managed.

"I'm gonna fuck you," the Dom tried again.

"P-Please," Blaine stuttered. Kurt smiled, lowering his sub down against the mattress and pushing his legs further apart, never slipping out of the tight heat around his cock.

"Ready, baby?"

"Please, Kurt."

The Dom thrust forward, hoisting Blaine's hips up at the same time in search of a better angle. Blaine moaned, babbling a string of words. "Thank you, thank you, please, Kurt, harder."

Kurt obliged his sub's request, taking a deep breath as he plunged forward again. This time he put the thrust into a continuous motion, jerking his hips again and again as fast as humanly possible. Oxygen was hard to gather while all muscles were pulled so taut, but Kurt pushed through, fucking Blaine until the sub began to scream. "Harder!" he still pleaded. Kurt gave a carnal shout, overwhelmed with a sense of possession.

"Mine!" he growled out, pounding into Blaine's ass.

"Please, please," Blaine seemed to have lost the capability of saying anything else.

"Come for me, Blaine," Kurt ordered. He didn't touch his sub's erection. Blaine's hands were fisted hard into the sheets. "Come for me!" With one last grunt of tension, Blaine's body obeyed, and the sub threw his head back with a strangled, raw yell as cum spilled out across his stomach and chest, painting him in white stripes. Kurt followed soon after, releasing into the condom as he gasped Blaine's name.

Still panting, the Dom pulled out, carefully removing the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the nearby trash. A few towels were already set aside for cleanup, and Kurt wiped off his sub's torso gently, throwing the soiled fabric to the floor before grabbing another towel and dabbing at the sweat on Blaine's face.

While Kurt worked, Blaine opened his eyes to look up at him, and Kurt paused to admire the peaceful glint he saw in them. "How are you feeling, baby?" he asked softly.

"Like I just got fucked straight through the gates of heaven," Blaine mumbled tiredly. Kurt laughed, deciding that the rest of cleaning up could wait. Right now some post-coital bonding was definitely in order. He helped turn Blaine around, situating him against a pillow before laying down at his side.

"You did amazingly well with everything today, Blaine," Kurt told him honestly, "I'm really proud of you."

The sub beamed in a way that Kurt had never seen before, and he couldn't help but lean in for a kiss, caressing Blaine's face with his fingers. The sub covered Kurt's hand with his own, pressing against his cheek. He smiled, the muscles bunching under Kurt's skin. "You called me yours," Blaine said then, "right before you made me come. You said 'Mine.'"

Kurt blushed, "Yeah, about that… Instinct thing and all," he explained, "if it makes you uncomfortable, I can try not to say—"

"I love it."

"What?"

"I love it," Blaine said again. "Being yours. It feels special, important… safe."

The Dom felt his eyes prick with the beginnings of a few unanticipated tears. "You _are_ special, baby, and very, very important." He pulled gently on Blaine's shoulder, and the sub moved willingly, tucking himself against Kurt's chest and closing his eyes. "And of course," Kurt whispered, "I'll always keep you safe."

* * *

_Part Three coming soon..._


	3. Privacy of a Supercouple

**A/N:** First, I apologize for the ridiculously long wait! I have no excuse other than real life and other WIPs, which I think are both valid excuses, so y'know, w/e. Anyway, this is the conclusion to what was intended to be a one-shot, and I'm going to say this preemptively: There will not be a sequel, so don't beg, please. It just makes me feel guilty that I can't provide!

**Warnings/Kinks:** D/s elements (similar intensity to Part 2); light bondage; production/viewing of a sex tape; light, blink-and-you'll-miss-it humiliation; facials. Everything sexual is done with love, safewords, and mutual consent.

I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much for reading! :)

* * *

They managed to keep their relationship a sweet secret for themselves for nearly a month.

Those three weeks following their first night shared with one another in Kurt's bed were some of the best three weeks of their lives. Kurt took Blaine out on trips and excursions—always making sure to plan carefully ahead of time in an effort to avoid attention whenever possible. Kurt knew the tabloids tended to devote more stories to him when the new fashion seasons came around, bringing with them new designers, new clothing styles, and more high-class fashion shows around the world. He always seemed to make it back into the public eye in the early spring and fall. But the original photos of Kurt that Blaine had shot nearly a month ago were soon to drop in a fifteen full-page gallery in the latest Vogue magazine. Kurt knew his privacy was limited. As soon as the pictures got out into the world, people would be talking about him again—and undoubtedly of the talent of the photographer whose name no one recognized, printed underneath the pictures in a fine white font.

Kurt was careful in choosing where to take Blaine. When he wanted to bring his boyfriend to a beach to watch the sunset, he avoided Santa Monica and went to a more private location. There was an extensive monetary cost for renting out a whole section of privately owned waterfront property, but Kurt strongly preferred the security of knowing they'd be alone rather than having to deal with glancing over his shoulder and looking for any signs that he'd been recognized by tourists. Somehow all of his sleuthing worked, and the new couple managed to stay under the radar... until they didn't.

It was an average Wednesday evening when Kurt and Blaine were caught by the paparazzi for the first time, walking back to Blaine's apartment from dinner at a quaint, hole-in-the-wall café.

They seemed to appear out of nowhere, as they often did, suddenly shouting Kurt's name and scrambling to get around to the front of the couple, walking sideways and backwards to keep their cameras trained in the right direction. After years of being subject to their tactics, Kurt was accustomed to the invasiveness. Though it was never something he'd _enjoy_, he'd learned to tolerate the inevitable. Everyone had to make a living somehow, he supposed, even if it was in being an obnoxious creep.

But Blaine had never been between a circle of men with cheap, back-turned baseball caps and poor clothing choices, shouting and asking a million questions, their dozens of video recorders and still cameras pointing straight at his face, bombarding their peaceful walk with bright flashes and the constant click of a dozen shutter buttons. Though Blaine was powerful behind the camera, he'd never been so exposed in front of one before. His reaction was instantaneous, tripping and nearly stumbling over his own feet in overwhelmed surprise. Though he recovered quickly, Kurt could feel his tension from the few inches that separated them. Blaine's muscles were defensively tightening, uncertain and even a little afraid as he forced his legs to keep moving forward.

They weren't ready to go public; not yet. They'd talked about and agreed that now was not the time, so Kurt knew he couldn't take Blaine's hand. All he could do was shift a bit closer, letting their shoulders brush. It was a pitiful mockery of what it meant to be a steadfast, comforting Dom, and in that moment Kurt detested himself for not having prepared Blaine for what they were experiencing. He'd been trying so hard to hide their budding love away from prying eyes that he'd neglected to make sure his boyfriend and submissive wouldn't feel endangered once those prying eyes ultimately broke through Kurt's fantasy of _we're the only two people on earth._

The model was accustomed to questions about fashion and upcoming events, usually the paparazzi's go-to inquiries (though Kurt was sure they were often simply parroting off babbles of words they'd memorized from their supervisors; they had no real clue what they were asking). Today, however, the questions were noticeably different.

Some went the faux-polite route, hoping Kurt would appreciate their fabrication of manners and grace them with a word or two: "Mr. Hummel, who's this attractive young man with you?" "Have you known him long?" "Is he a friend from college?"

Others were much less PC, trying to get a response from Kurt by working him into an angry state: "Who have you been sneaking around with?" "Kurt, who's the kid? Did you pick him up off the street?"

And of course, they badgered Blaine just as harshly—if not even more so—like sharks smelling blood and preying on the weak: "What's your name?" "Are you dating Mr. Hummel?" "Do you know this guy next to you is a _model?_" "Where'd you meet Kurt, kid?" "What's your name?" "Tell us your name!"

Kurt put an arm around Blaine's back, whispering a stiff, reassuring command, "You don't have to answer anything," into his ear as he continued to lead him down the street. The men with their cameras followed, a pack of insistent wolves snapping at their heels. Their bright lights mounted on their cameras to illuminate their targets made Blaine squirm at Kurt's side, squinting and turning his head away, but he had nowhere to look that the lights weren't burning. Through the haze of noise around him Kurt distantly recalled their day at the beach when Blaine had worn sunglasses all the way up until the sun was halfway below the horizon. "I have stupidly sensitive eyes," he'd said with a shrug, commenting on the bright reflection across the water, "Too much light gives me a headache."

"Back off, please, guys," Kurt said to the crowd around them. "You're hurting his eyes." Blaine shook his head, blinking blearily at his Dom, clearly not wanting to make a scene.

"Who is he?" one of the men asked, entirely ignoring Kurt's request for more space, but instead getting even closer to Blaine, "Huh? What's your name, Curly?"

"_Back off_," Kurt hissed, fixing the man with a glare. Again, the swarm of paparazzi refused to comply. The Dom could feel his anger rising as they tormented his submissive. Though he knew there was nothing that could be done to avoid instinctual responses, Kurt forced himself not to let it manifest in the form of a physical altercation. He didn't want to be one of _those _celebrities who couldn't handle a bit of a paparazzo's taunting without throwing a punch.

Thankfully, they had only been about two blocks away from Blaine's apartment building when the swarm had arrived. Before too much longer, Kurt was able to punch in a four-digit security code on a dirty keypad that automatically locked the lobby door after 7 PM. He ushered Blaine in first before stepping in himself, making sure they were out of sight before he finally let himself take Blaine's hand. Kurt remained silent while they climbed the stairs up to the third floor and Blaine kept just as quiet, emulating his Dom's actions. He fished his keys out of his pocket and after fumbling for a few seconds, was able to push one into the lock on his apartment door covered with ancient, chipped paint.

With the thin walls, there was no telling if Blaine's neighbors could overhear their conversation or not, but the enclosed space gave the illusion of being safely alone.

"Oh my god, Blaine, I'm so sorry," Kurt spoke in a frantic voice as soon as they were inside, "I should've known they'd show up eventually and done more to make sure you were ready to handle it. That was so irresponsible of me."

"Kurt, it's fine," Blaine brushed him off, shrugging.

"_No, _Blaine. It's not fine. I let you down."

"I'm okay," he insisted, "Right as rain."

"Baby, you're shaking," Kurt observed softly.

The sub lifted up his arm, staring down at his hand. Sure enough, light tremors were rattling the muscles beneath his skin. "Oh."

"Come on," Kurt said, "Let's get you to your bedroom."

Kurt used the term 'bedroom' lightly. In truth, it was just the corner of the one main room apart from the closet sized bathroom that made up Blaine's living space, where a small bed and old side table with a reading lamp were divided from the rest of the apartment's mismatched furniture by a cheap privacy partition that looked like Blaine had bought at a low quality flea market.

Blaine sat on the edge of his bed, letting Kurt move in beside him and run a hand down his back. After the springs of the old mattress quit protesting the shifting weight, it was quiet for a few seconds, emphasizing the disjointed urban symphony of noise around them: the clunky rumble of the AC unit on the window that looked out over a well-graffiti'd alley, a barking dog somewhere down on the street, the muffled laughter and screams of playing children a few doors down the hall. Kurt wondered how Blaine ever got any sleep here. As if in answer his eyes wandered to a pair of earplugs on the nightstand, their tips coated with the tiniest film of dried wax that hadn't been cleaned off since earlier that morning. It really was a rather gloomy place to live. Kurt wondered how long it would be—if ever—until Blaine might consider moving in with him, or more importantly, if he would even want to continue exploring this relationship after what had happened today.

"I'm sorry," the Dom said again, at a loss for anything but apologies.

"I know," Blaine replied, "I forgive you."

"You shouldn't be so quick to forgive, Blaine," Kurt warned softly, "You have every right to stay mad at me."

"How can I stay mad if I wasn't mad in the first place?" Kurt didn't have an answer for him. Blaine continued, "Those guys freaked me out, yeah, but it's not your fault they ambushed us."

"But it _is_ my fault that you weren't prepared," Kurt tried to reason, "I should have told you more about what it's like. I should've said how to handle—"

"Nothing you could've told me would have made that first time any easier. I think you know that."

"Well, I still feel sick to my stomach about it," Kurt said stubbornly. Blaine leaned into his side, pressing his lips against his Dom's cheek for several lingering seconds. "It's okay," he whispered.

Kurt nodded stiffly, clearing his throat. "Are you alright, though?" he asked gently, squeezing Blaine's thigh. "All those camera flashes…"

"Pretty bad headache," Blaine admitted.

"But that's all?"

"That's all. I'm fine."

There was a lull in conversation. The AC unit idled off into silence. The barking dog had long since moved off, and the kids down the hall had quieted down. Blaine took a few deep breaths, rubbing roughly at his temples. He squeezed his eyes shut from time to time, face contorted like he was trying to shove the pain out through his ears.

"Baby?" Kurt asked, keeping his voice low to lessen the agitation to Blaine's discomfort. "I know this probably isn't the ideal time for your head to be engaged in a discussion, but we really need to talk about what happened and how we're going to respond in the short-term, even briefly."

"'kay," Blaine muttered. He dropped his head sideways onto Kurt's shoulder. When he offered nothing else in response, Kurt took the lead.

"They have pictures of us, Blaine," he said bluntly, "By tonight they'll be online. By the end of the week they'll be on every gossip magazine at the grocery store checkout lines. They don't know who you are, but there will be speculation for sure." He hesitated, trying to find a balance between the need to protect his submissive and his desire not to impede Blaine's freedom. "I'd, um… I'd really prefer if you'd lie low for a few days—at least when I'm not around," Kurt told him cautiously, "to try and let it blow over a bit, you know? If the sharks with cameras have questions they can come swimming to me. I don't want you getting harassed on your own."

"Is that an order, Kurt?" Blaine asked, "You want me to stay inside?"

Kurt sighed, "It's a _suggestion_. I just want you to stay safe, baby. That's all. I don't want them cornering you and making you uncomfortable because you were seen with me today." Blaine nodded. "And I'd understand completely if you didn't want to see me again after this…"

"Don't be stupid," Blaine mumbled, not even dwelling on the words, "I always want to see you." The Dom smiled, unable to avoid taking pride in the simple, assured statement. "But on that note," Blaine said a moment later, "you probably should get going before the—what'd you call them? Sharks with cameras? You should probably get going before they start getting suspicious of how long you're sitting in this ratty apartment complex with a stranger."

The Dom didn't seem too enthralled with the idea of leaving Blaine alone. "Let them get suspicious," he dismissed, "They're gonna talk regardless of whether I leave or not."

"They saw you come in here with me. If you don't come back out again, they'll know you stayed the night. Think of all the rumors, Kurt…"

"I've handled gossip before," Kurt replied, suddenly feeling desperate. His protective instincts were flaring up like a bad allergy, set off by the horde of paparazzi. If he left Blaine he wouldn't be here to protect him from the whirlwind. But if he stayed he was opening a whole new world of problems. Both options screamed an accusing alarm of 'Irresponsible Dom!' in his head. Which one was the wiser choice? Kurt didn't know what rules applied to their situation anymore.

He shook his head, murmuring, "I can't leave you, Blaine. I don't think I can handle it."

"Listen to me," Blaine told him, threading their fingers together and squeezing his hand, "If you stay here without telling the guys outside_ anything_, they'll jump to conclusions themselves. What if they think you paid a prostitute or something? I may be a bit of a cockslut for my Dom, Mr. Hummel, but I'm no whore."

"_Blaine,_" Kurt shook his head, exasperated.

"I'm serious, Kurt," he insisted, "_Go_. Just go and tell them you were dropping off a friend or something. They don't have to know anything else, but as long as you tell them something you'll keep the rumors in _your_ power."

Kurt sighed. He knew that Blaine's argument was certainly logical—as far as the gossip industry worked, at least. He still didn't want to leave his sub, though. Grasping at one last attempt to convince Blaine that his presence was imperative, Kurt asked, "Baby, what about your head?"

"My head will be fine," Blaine assured him, "I'll just take some meds, get an ice pack, and become a recluse in the dark for a while."

"You sure?"

"I've handled migraines since I was twelve, Kurt. I promise I'll be fine," he smiled to prove his point, eyes squinted in the most adorable fashion. "Now go. You can call me in the morning, and I'll answer to tell you that I'm safe and sound."

Kurt nodded slowly, finally giving in. He wasn't quite done, though. "Get ready for bed," he told Blaine in a calm, authoritative voice. "I'm gonna go get your headache necessities. Put on whatever you want to sleep in—PJs, underwear, sweatpants—then I want you under the covers by the time I get back. Alright?"

"Yes, Kurt." Blaine smiled sweetly at his Dom, happily relinquishing control as Kurt stood up and walked the six feet it took to get to the tiny kitchen area along the wall. He glanced through the cupboards and drawers until he found a pale blue ice pack, then cracked some ice cubes out of their tray, refilling the empty molds with water from the sink before sliding it carefully back into Blaine's freezer. After twisting on the lid and filling a glass with water, Kurt headed to the bathroom to grab two pills from the bottle of store-brand Excedrin knockoff in the medicine cabinet.

When he stepped back around the privacy partition, Blaine was snug in bed just as Kurt had requested, his eyes already closed and the covers pulled up to his bare chest. His pants and shirt had been tossed in a heap on the floor. Kurt grinned at the sight, setting everything down on the nightstand. "Sit up for a second, baby," he said gently. Blaine lifted himself up with one hand, swallowed the pills Kurt offered him and chased them down with a few swallows of water. When he flopped back against the pillow Kurt leaned over to kiss his forehead tenderly before he rested the cold pack of ice against it. "There you go."

"Thank you, Kurt."

"Of course. It's my job to take care of you," Kurt whispered, stepping around the bed to draw the curtains on the window, shutting out the light that bothered his sub's eyes. "I'll call you in the morning. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Yeah," Blaine agreed calmly, "Night."

"Goodnight, baby." The Dom started toward the door, taking care to walk silently while he heard Blaine shift into a more comfortable position, yawning into his pillow. Just as he reached for the knob, Blaine sleepily called his name. "Hm?" he sent the inquisitive noise back across the room.

"Love you."

It was the first time either of them had said the L-word. It wasn't exactly the way Kurt had envisioned it in his mind either. This wasn't the sweeping romantic moment he'd anticipated, perhaps post-coital or after a passionate kiss. Surprisingly… it was even better.

"I love you, too," Kurt said in return, simple and honest. "Get some sleep."

"M'kay. I think I'll dream about you." He could hear Blaine's smile as he stepped out and pushed the locked door closed behind him.

* * *

As Kurt predicted, the social media storm following his photographed outing with Blaine was both swift and torrential. He broke his self-imposed no-Googling-his-own-name rule to see what the world was saying, feeling like he could make an exception where Blaine was concerned. The photos with too much light exposure were on every page he navigated to, and Kurt wanted to cringe at every last one. He wore a blank, calm expression in most of them, but it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was tense. On the other hand, Blaine—poor Blaine—looked downright tortured in most of the shots, his moments of discomfort captured for eternity: squinting, turning away, lips drawn tight, hands clenched at his sides while he forced himself not to reach out for Kurt. Just seeing the still cues of his body language captured on screen spurred a desire in the Dom to rush to Blaine's apartment and scoop him into his arms.

The images were hard enough for Kurt to look at, and he was a seasoned professional at paparazzi. The last thing he needed was Blaine catching sight of his own scared face, and he felt no shame or hesitation in ordering his submissive not to go looking for them, no matter how much his curiosity nagged at him.

"What's done is done, and there's nothing we can do to change it," he explained over the phone, "but I don't want this bothering you anymore than it already has. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Kurt," Blaine replied simply. He was actually relieved by the command. It took the pressure off of his shoulders, knowing that the twisted need to defend himself and what he had with Kurt from anonymous screen names dropping hateful comments was out of his hands.

They tried their best to maintain a sense of normalcy while they waited for the opportune moment to go public. Though it would be simple to do, Kurt didn't want to release some statement to the highest paying magazine so they could turn his very personal news into some impersonal, exclusive, front page celebrity bombshell. He wanted to do it as naturally as possible, despite the fact that it would be inherently unnatural due to his fame.

The opportune moment finally arrived when Kurt received an invitation to a fashion show happening in downtown Los Angeles at the end of the month of June. The show would be highlighting rising stars of the industry—new, fresh faces from design schools around the world who were expected to make a splash in the upcoming fall season. It would be a well-documented event, but not quite as covered as the big name designers' shows were. The smaller scale made it safer, and Kurt had his driver pick Blaine up and drive him over to the mansion to ask him to attend in person.

Of course Blaine said yes, and two weeks, two tailored suits, and a limousine ride later, the couple was queued up near the red carpet, moments away from a milestone they could never take back nor retrace.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Kurt asked a little anxiously, glancing out the dark-tinted windows at the crowds outside. "If you're not, I can tell the driver to take you back home. He'll keep going, and no one has to know you were even here. They'll think I came alone."

"Kurt, I'm sure I'm ready," Blaine replied evenly, for what had to have been the tenth time. "Are _you _sure? This is more than just about me. This is going to change things for you, too."

"You've already changed everything for me, baby," the Dom smiled, "This is just showing the world how much."

"And you don't mind? You won't resent me when people get jealous and we get hate mail?"

"They have every right to be jealous," Kurt shrugged, "I've got the perfect best friend, boyfriend, and submissive wrapped up in one gorgeous package with a cute little bow tie," he said sweetly, flicking the black accessory around Blaine's neck. "I'm ready to show off my greatest asset."

Blaine bit his lip to stifle an overly-large grin. "Then let's do it."

"Okay."

When the limousine pulled up into the drop-off area, the door was opened for them and Kurt stepped outside, raising his hand up to tell the man beside the car to wait when he looked prepared to push the door shut again. "You brought someone along, Mr. Hummel?" the man asked, filling in the blank.

Kurt nodded briefly, feeling his heart starting to pound restlessly in his chest while Blaine slid over the long leather seat and finally planted his feet on the edge of the red carpet. He looked down in a bit of awe, clearly trying to focus and live in the moment so he wouldn't miss a thing. Kurt's eyes gleamed with affection and pride, and he reached over to pat Blaine pat on the cheek, gently gaining his attention. Reacting naturally to the touch, the submissive looked up at his Dom's face, instantly echoing Kurt's smile with one of his own.

"Shall we?" the Dom asked.

"Yes, Kurt." Blaine let the tiniest hint of submission color his tone while he rose from his sitting position and took his first few steps away from the car. Everyone was watching, some trying to be more discreet than others, while Kurt pulled his hand out of his pocket and slipped it into Blaine's. They threaded their fingers together with ease, united in the face of a hundred flashbulbs, suddenly going off like a tidal wave of stars.

Blaine pulled in a steady breath to steel himself. This was a completely different situation from the paparazzi ambush. He and Kurt held the power here. They headed further onto the carpet and Blaine waited off to the side with a cluster of other plus ones, publicists, and assistants to watch Kurt pose for a lineup of photographers. He handled the mass of demanding shouts and bright flashes like a seasoned professional, giving them a full minute of his trademark modeling expressions before returning to Blaine's side and continuing on their way to press.

"Your eyes doing alright, babe?" Kurt asked, brushing his hand down past Blaine's pocket to make sure he'd slipped in a pair of sunglasses just in case the bright lights became too much for him.

"They're fine," he promised.

"Good. Still, let me know if your head starts hurting." Though the carpet was shorter than Kurt was used to and they'd be inside fairly soon, he knew from experience that lighting at fashion shows could get a little wild. He didn't bother to mention that he'd also brought along a tiny pill box with medication just to be safe. The last thing he needed was for Blaine to feel miserable from a migraine, especially when he could tell that Blaine was already feeling a little nervous.

Kurt had run Blaine through a basic "Press Line 101" course before they'd arrived, informing him as best he could of what to expect once they began interviews. Blaine knew he'd be a topic of conversation, and he'd prepared himself to give out his name a few dozen times, proving to have been a wise decision when the first interviewer, representing Entertainment Weekly, curiously asked for more details about Kurt's date within the first fifteen seconds: "Who's this handsome man you have with you tonight?"

"I'm Blaine Anderson, sir," the submissive introduced himself formally, offering his hand. The interviewer shook it while Kurt took a moment to brag on Blaine's behalf.

"We met at a photoshoot I did a few months back. This guy's responsible for the new spread in the latest issue of Vogue that just got released last week."

A spark of recognition clicked in the man's eyes as he made the connection between the name he'd read in the magazine credits and the one he'd just heard spoken. "Oh, I see! Such great work, Mr. Anderson! Really, really brilliant."

"Thank you so much," Blaine blushed a little, and Kurt squeezed his hand.

Their work on the photoshoot continued to be praised as the pair made their way down the line of press, speaking into shared microphones and standing close together while video cameras filmed their short interviews for dozens of media outlets. Many of the questions were already designated to be asked of Kurt—of course everyone had expected him to be coming alone—but a few of the reporters broke away from their original plans to include Blaine in their conversation as well.

"Are you two gonna be like the new _Brangelina_?" one young woman asked with a chuckle, clearly excited to have the chance to talk to Kurt Hummel's new boyfriend and get the latest scoop on their budding love life, "How would you feel about a supercouple name?"

Blaine shook his head in disbelief, unable to suppress an amused grin which he politely tried to hide against Kurt's shoulder, momentarily forgetting that the entire world would see the footage of the gesture online. A mumbled, awkward, "Oh god," left his mouth with a nervous chuckle as he stood back up straight, but Kurt remained calm, releasing Blaine's hand for a moment to pat the small of his back out of the camera's sight, reassuring him that it was fine.

Without missing a beat, Kurt laughed it off, "As long as they don't start calling us something like '_Blurt_,' I don't really care what they say," casually adding, "We're just a normal couple that happens to be a bit in the spotlight."

They made it past the carpet without any major incidents. Kurt heard Blaine let out a massive breath of air as they finally stepped inside the building, and he rubbed his shoulders for a few seconds, easing his tight muscles, "You were great, baby."

"Yeah… I guess so," Blaine said slowly, still a little dazed, "So we're out to the world now, huh? Officially."

"Officially," Kurt echoed with a thoughtful nod, "Feels sort of good, though, to know I can hold your hand whenever I want."

"Yeah, it does." Blaine threaded their fingers together to prove the point, and they headed off to find their reserved seating near the front row by the runway. Occasionally Kurt paused to chat with acquaintances in the industry, always making sure to introduce Blaine and put in a good word for his photography skills.

After brushing shoulders with a particularly high-ranking member of the fashion community—who noted Blaine's incredible work in Vogue and hinted that there might be a few job offers for him soon—the photographer had to take a minute to catch his breath, stunned by the magnitude of the turn his life had taken.

"Just so we're clear," he told Kurt as they took their seats, "I'm not in this relationship for the industry networking."

Kurt laughed, "Though it's an undeniable perk, right?"

"God, yes. I thought I'd be doing graduation and wedding photos for twenty years before anything big came up... Then this just fell in my lap," he waved his hands in the air to illustrate the absurdity of the situation.

"Actually, you sort of fell into _my_ lap after the shoot," Kurt teased, "Pulled my pants down, too, if I remember correctly."

"Oh, hush. You know the effect you have on me."

"Mmm," Kurt leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, thrilled that he could do such a thing in public, "That I do."

* * *

As they'd been hoping, the media storm surrounding Kurt Hummel's new 'man candy' died down after the first few weeks, turning into old news as other celebrity stories came to light and stole the consumers' short-attention spans away. Blaine and Kurt were more than happy to be out of the limelight again, and they felt a new sense of freedom in being able to go wherever they wanted without the need to hide their relationship from everyone they passed.

Kurt made it clear early on that his home was already Blaine's, whenever he wanted, but the practical college graduate thought it best to remain at his own apartment except for frequent visits and sleepovers, feeling more secure having a place of his own, at least until they were both entirely certain that their love would be forever. It was a mature choice which Kurt respected, though he couldn't help an occasional, passing guilt from living in luxury while Blaine slummed it out in a neighborhood across the city.

He shared his luxury with Blaine whenever he could, however, which proved to be increasingly often as the months progressed. An unspoken agreement seemed to fall into place after their first time together that sex was to be had at Kurt's and nowhere else. It was simply safer that way—more private—and Blaine had to admit his Dom's huge, soft bed was infinitely more comfortable than his own. A memory foam mattress was a lot easier to get fucked into than one made of hard, squeaky metal springs.

Naturally, as their love grew, so did their courage to explore new sexual horizons. An afternoon discussion of fantasies and kinks led to Kurt pose the question of bondage. Though it hadn't held much interest for him previously, Blaine had agreed to try it with an open mind and a single condition, "As long as we don't do anything, like… hardcore. At least not the first time."

"Like what? Define your limits of hardcore."

"Like handcuffs," Blaine said, "Nothing that has to be physically unlocked to get out of. I wanna be able to know that I could get free quickly if I needed to. Having to depend on a key that could get lost or something would just make me nervous. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense, Blaine," he assured. His words sounded clipped and incomplete. Blaine remained silent, waiting for his Dom to overcome his slight hesitation. "And, um—just out of curiosity," he stressed, "h-how would you feel about making a sex tape?"

After that, their conversation led to a proper amount of preparation and ultimately to the bedroom on the following night, where Blaine's arms were tied meticulously to the headboard with a few of Kurt's scarves. The sight of Kurt setting up a tripod and HD camcorder a few feet from the bed was enough to make Blaine's naked body break out into a sweat and his cock twitch with interest.

"Okay, Mr. Photographer," Kurt smirked, putting Blaine into focus on the lens, "It's _your_ turn to put on a show…"

* * *

"Kurt, please," Blaine begged weakly, "Want you so bad."

His chest had gone from heaving to lighter rises and falls, but his body was still alight and tingling from the rush of his orgasm, drying cum still a bit wet on his abdomen. The dildo had been wiped down with a cloth and tossed to the side, and Blaine could see the signs of Kurt's erection clear as day in his pants, all but breaking through the button and zipper. Still the Dom ignored it just as he'd ignored it the entire time he'd worshiped and teased and worked Blaine's body into a frenzy over the past half hour.

"Shh, baby, I know," Kurt soothed, stroking his face, "I want you just as badly, I promise. Just hold on a minute, okay?"

Blaine relented quietly. "'kay."

The Dom leaned in and kissed his lips with a soft smile, "Thank you," then slowly reached up to undo the silken knot around Blaine's left wrist, massaging the skin beneath the pads of his fingers and listening to his sub groan in leftover pleasure while his taut muscles trembled into a state of momentary relaxation. Kurt did the same with Blaine's right, pulled the scarves free, and draped them over the edge of the bed.

"C'mon," Kurt patted Blaine's side to rouse him, "Up, baby. Bring the scarves for me."

"_Kurt_," he whined, eyes fixated on the telltale bulge in Kurt's pants. He licked his lips. "Need you."

"Patience, Blaine," Kurt said firmly, "Get up. Bring the scarves."

The orders kept his boy docile, submissive, and secure in his headspace. He nodded once and grabbed the scarves, sliding off the bed and standing nearby while Kurt grabbed the camera off of the stand and headed out of the room and down the stairs, the sub following close at his heels.

They ended up in the den, and Kurt directed Blaine to kneel on the carpet and keep quiet, which he did without complaint, settling down in silence and holding the scarves in his naked lap. Kurt wandered over to the massive flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Working quickly, he plugged in a handful of cords littered across the floor and adjusted a few settings on the television. After having practiced this setup a few times earlier that day to become familiar with it, he was a pro, and within a minute Blaine found himself staring at his own image, laying back, tied up on Kurt's bed, frozen like a sculpture while the video sat on Pause.

His jaw fell open. They were going to watch the sex tape they'd just made? Holy _fuck_.

Kurt turned to his sub with a sultry grin, walking over to him and running a hand through his curls. He beckoned with a single finger as he moved to a wooden chair set up purposefully in the middle of the room, and Blaine stayed down, crawling forward to kneel at Kurt's side.

"Do you know what we're gonna do, baby?"

"Watch?" Blaine assumed.

"Mhm," Kurt nodded, "What else?" He spread his legs casually, letting his hand ghost over his crotch in a less-than-subtle hint.

"Make you come." Blaine stared up at Kurt with wide, hungry eyes, "Please, let me."

"You're gonna suck me off, pretty boy," Kurt told him. "You're gonna watch me tease you. You're gonna have my cock in your mouth while you watch me play with your gorgeous body and make you _moan_. Gonna see just how good you are for me, baby. Would you like that?"

Blaine whined and let out a rush of loud air, trying to breathe. "Yes. _Fuck._ Yes, Kurt, please let me."

"Give me your hands." Kurt settled them in his own lap and took one of the scarves from Blaine, carefully binding his wrists together and lacing the silk all the way up Blaine's joined forearms in an intricate, weaving pattern of loose but sturdy knots. With the second scarf, he tied Blaine's arms to one of the chair's rungs that connected two of the wooden legs. It positioned Blaine's head right between Kurt's thighs, within perfect view of the television, and the sub couldn't resist mouthing at the fabric of Kurt's pants until a gentle hand pulled him back so the Dom could shimmy them down and toss them to the side. Just like the first time they'd done this after the shoot so long ago, sans bondage, Kurt was wearing nothing underneath.

"Keep your eyes on the screen," Kurt commanded. "I don't want to see you looking away unless I tell you to. Understand?"

"Yes, Kurt."

"Since your mouth will be otherwise occupied, eye contact will be your safeword," he continued, "Even a glance and I'll immediately bring us to a stop. Are you comfortable with that, or would you prefer a different tactic?"

"Eye contact works fine for me."

"And if I tell you to look at me, obviously nullifying that safeword for the time being, what would you like to replace it with?"

Blaine thought for a moment, resting his head on Kurt's thigh. "Blinking three times?" he suggested.

"Show me." Blaine obeyed, deliberately closing his lids in a slow but purposeful succession. Kurt nodded, "Any questions?" Blaine shook his head and Kurt smiled, brushing his thumb over a high cheekbone. "Alright then... That's my good boy," he praised, easing his voice into a gentle lull to begin, "Now take your time. The video goes on for quite a while—no need to rush things."

When he spoke again, Blaine's voice was tentative, sounding rather young, "Kurt?"

"Yes, baby?"

"What if I get hard again?" he asked bashfully, already feeling the unmistakable thrum of arousal coursing through him purely at the thought of the erotic situation.

Kurt smirked, letting out a tiny chuckle and patting Blaine's cheek. "You can come if you need to, but only as long as you keep serving me. Fair enough?"

He nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Kurt," Blaine sighed gratefully, pressing a doting kiss to his Dom's inner thigh.

"Of course, sweetheart. Good boys always get what they need, Blaine," Kurt reminded. The sub nodded in agreement, and Kurt lifted the TV remote up from the small table positioned just within arm's reach. "Open up, pretty thing." Blaine's jaw instantly loosened, and he shoved his head forward, extending his neck to slide down around his Dom's length. Kurt hissed at the sudden sensation, using a trembling thumb to hit 'Play' on the remote.

Blaine's eyes stayed fixed on the screen just as he'd been told, though Blaine doubted he could've looked away even if he'd been allowed to. The sight was _incredible_. It was like watching porn, only unimaginably better. Hearing himself moan and cry out was otherworldly, and Kurt's high definition, surround sound, immensely expensive speakers mounted around the room were all turned up loud enough that not a single gasp or whimper went unheard. Blaine had never experienced anything like it, groaning in sympathy with his moaning doppelganger onscreen at the image of Kurt stroking his sub's cock to its full length, uttering dirty words of encouragement all the while. Blaine remembered what it felt like—it had only happened less than an hour before—and he sucked intently to keep himself focused on the task at hand, ignoring the temptation to give into trembling muscles and let his mind get washed away in the unbelievable heat of the moment.

As their film progressed, Blaine came to the distinct realization that watching it was like being dominated twice over—by the Kurt onscreen, currently fucking two fingers in and out of his ass, and by the Kurt looming above him, who'd taken hold of Blaine's curls to move him how he liked, bobbing him back and forth while carefully taking note of Blaine's limits and not pushing too close to the back of his throat. Even with the added layers of dominance and control, it was all entirely _Kurt_, and Blaine happily drowned in it.

Though he remained quiet for the most part, letting Blaine's attention be held by the footage, Kurt murmured a few words of praise every now and then between muffled moans of pleasure. "So good for me, Blaine. Do you _see_ how good you were earlier? Laying back so loose and open, begging me to fuck you?"

Blaine whined low in his throat, shuffling forward on his knees, no doubt in search of friction judging by the look of his erection. Kurt grinned. "Need a little help, baby?" he purred. Blaine whined again, and Kurt took pity on him, curiously watching his sub's reaction as he nudged Blaine back far enough to pull his own leg around the front of the man's naked body. It took a bit of doing to navigate past his sub's bound arms, but eventually Kurt was able to slide his leg forward across the carpet to press against Blaine's torso, and Blaine understood his plan in an instant, shamelessly rutting forward against Kurt's bare calf. It added a slight shade of humiliation to their brew of kinky exploration, making Blaine hump his leg like a dog, but by the same token, permission or not, Blaine was ultimately using Kurt's body like an object—as a means to an end—to help relieve his tension. Though Kurt maintained control, they were still very much partners in their balancing act of instinct.

By the time the video had progressed to the use of the dildo, Blaine was completely absorbed, watching himself squirm and plead and pull at the restraints. Kurt could tell when his body switched to autopilot under his hands, hips thrusting against his leg in time with the thrust of the toy onscreen, in and out of Blaine's puckered hole. His neck was completely pliant, given over to Kurt's tugging and pushing, though his lips continued to provide suction and his tongue created delicious drag along the veiny underside of the Dom's cock.

"You're drooling all over my expensive carpet, baby."

Blaine's wide, glazed eyes blinked slowly as his ears registered the sound of Kurt's voice emitting not from the speakers, but from the Dom himself. He let out a muffled grumble in response, sucking in loudly as if in attempt to slurp up the saliva that was already trailing down his chin. Kurt laughed and pressed his leg harder against Blaine's dick, pulling a whimper from his chest. "Gonna make me come, baby," he gasped a second later, voice cracking as his body gave a light shudder, "so fucking hard."

The words seemed to pull Blaine back into focus, and though he never took his eyes from the screen, he worked harder to bring Kurt's orgasm to light, wishing for a moment that he had the use of his hands so he could cover more area. The wooden chair groaned in protest as the pair rocked toward bliss, rungs and joints quaking beneath their weighted force.

Between gasps, Kurt hissed two words out between gritted teeth: "Off, Blaine!" The hasty exclamation caught the sub by surprise, but it was clearly not a command said in alarm—just a sudden change of plans. Blaine's jaw loosened as Kurt drew him back with one hand, using his other to fist tight around himself. The sub could see telltale jerking movements out of the corner of his eyes. "_Fuck,_ baby. Look at me." Blaine obeyed just in time to catch the transformation of Kurt's expression, the tension in him snapping like the drawn string of a bow as he came, hot and sticky across Blaine's face and into his waiting, open mouth.

Cum mingled with sweat on his brow, and Blaine blinked slowly as a strand slid down over the bridge of his nose, hearing Kurt pant as he worked out the last drops and smeared them on his sub's cheek. It only took a few more thrusts rubbing against Kurt's skin before Blaine's own release arrived, strangely close to the recorded final shout of pleasure he'd howled out an hour earlier in Kurt's bed. He rode it out with heavy breaths and finally bowed his head down against the seat of the chair, nestled against Kurt's crotch and a few stray drops of his Dom's cum.

For some time after, everything was still. His ears rang and the world tilted, but Blaine hardly noticed Kurt bending over him to reach down and slip the loose knots of the scarves free, massaging his palms against the sub's skin to make sure the blood was flowing. "You with me, baby?" he whispered in a soft voice, carding his fingers through damp curls. Blaine grunted.

"Is that a yes?" Kurt chuckled.

"I think so," he mumbled back, licking sticky salt from his lips.

Blaine wasn't paying much attention to anything except his afterglow, but somehow Kurt's shirt found its way up over his head and the Dom pressed it to his face gently, wiping him clean. "I didn't really warn you ahead of time that I was gonna do that," he said bashfully, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize; it was hot."

"I thought so too," Kurt agreed, "You look good with my cum, baby."

Blaine huffed out a laugh and slowly stood on wobbly legs, leaning down over the chair to steal a passionate kiss and feel Kurt's nails scratch gently at the nape of his neck. "Well," he said with a cheeky grin as he pulled away, "I know one thing for certain."

"And what's that?" Kurt asked, already smiling and prepared to roll his eyes.

"If this modeling and photography thing doesn't work out for us, we could always do porn!"


End file.
